


Reconciliation

by InR



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-21
Updated: 2010-06-21
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InR/pseuds/InR
Summary: Ron and Hermione begin the long process of healing after Ron's return. A Deathly Hallows missing moment.





	Reconciliation

Ron sighed as Hermione stomped out of the tent to relieve Harry from watch: it was going to be a long night… In the time since Ron had returned, she had spoken to him a grand total of two and a half times (She had broken off in the middle of a sentence when speaking to him, sneering and stomping off to convey her disgust). 

Ron watched as she took her seat by the door; her arms and legs were crossed tightly against the cold, a dark scowl on her face. Ron sighed again, louder this time, but froze when she shot him a quick glare. It was going to be a long, lonely night…

He and Harry spoke in quiet voices about Quidditch and other mundane things as Ron set about tidying up the tent, both of them trying to bring some light to their situation. Soon Harry drifted off to sleep for a few hours, leaving Ron to make tea from their meager ration of old tealeaves.

As he waited for his tea to steep, Ron glanced back out at Hermione’s still form. She was huddled close to the tent, her hands firmly shoved under her arms for warmth. Ron considered trying to talk to her again but the thought of receiving another death-glare put him off the idea quickly.

Ron returned to the table, taking a seat and staring aimlessly into the blue flames in the jar at its center. As he stared at the patterns created by the flickering flames, his eyelids began to droop lower and lower.

Ron was startled awake by a sudden noise nearby. His head snapped up as one hand reached for his wand before he checked himself. Hermione was standing opposite him unwinding her scarf and unbuttoning her heavy coat, her recently dropped book resting on the table in front of Ron. 

Ron felt a sudden rush of relief and unchecked affection for her as he watched her struggle with one coat-sleeve. He rose and extended a hand to help her but she backed away from him before he could touch her and sat quickly in the chair opposite his, her coat still haphazardly on. 

They sat for a few minutes, surrounded by a silence that was only broken by the occasional sputter of the gas-light-blue flames between them. Ron found himself watching Hermione with some trepidation: it amazed him that so much raw talent and power could be contained in such a small and rather frail body and he did not want to risk incurring her wrath again. He thought he understood completely how Hermione was feeling, having spent much of the time since his return in bouts of self-loathing and frustration. 

Hermione looked up suddenly, her eyes strange and luminescent in the dim light, her lips parted slightly. For an instant, her face was open and turned sweetly towards him; almost instantly though, she corrected herself and her ever-present scowl returned. Ron scrambled to find a way to lift the anger from her eyes and cast about him for some outward inspiration. His eyes lighted on the chipped cup of tea that he hadn’t finished preparing earlier and he pushed it tentatively in Hermione’s direction. 

“I-I made you some tea.” He choked out rather feebly. Hermione continued to scowl but relented and took the proffered drink. She took a sip and grimaced: “It’s gone completely cold.” She complained, wrinkling her nose in disgust. 

Ron winced: there was his flimsy reconciliation effort shot to bits. He couldn’t even make tea right. In desperation he reached forward in an effort to reheat the offending drink. In doing so, his hand brushed Hermione’s, sending a quick shock of warmth across his skin. His heart sank as she flinched almost bodily away from his touch and he quickly apologized. 

“I’m going to bed.” Hermione’s quiet voice filled the hollow space between them and Ron’s heart fell even further as Hermione stood to leave. Without looking at him, she gathered her book and scarf up and began to turn away. 

Acting again out of desperation, Ron reached quickly for her wrist, ignoring her swift attempt at evasion. “Hermione, wait. Please, stay here,” he pleaded with her, feeling hot shame threaten to overwhelm him as he heard the pathetic groveling that tainted his voice.

He risked a glance up at her and almost shrank away at the look on her shadowed face. Her mouth was pulled down in a brutal frown ill suited to her beautiful face and something dangerous flashed through her dark eyes. When she spoke, Ron could almost feel the temperature drop in the seemingly immeasurable space between them. 

“Don’t touch me.” She seemed to speak not to him but to a spot just behind him. The fact that she couldn’t even look at him made Ron want to cry, as pathetic as that was. He dropped her wrist and ducked his head quickly, apologizing once more.

Suddenly, he felt a change come over her. Instead of cold disgust, a crackling energy, a hot anger, began to radiate from her. She stood in front of him, adopting what he had come to know as her battle stance: spine ram-rod straight, head thrown back challengingly and hands balled tightly at her sides. 

“For heaven’s sake, STOP APOLOGIZING! Is that all you are capable of?” she demanded fiercely. Ron jumped at the shocking volume of her words. Her voice no longer held an icy edge: only anger, terrible, abrupt anger, carried her exclamation and Ron could feel his blood quickening with his own rage. He knew this kind of anger, and he could respond to this kind of fury. Ron recognized that he and Hermione were finally on even footing once more.

Feeling the rough surge of heat boil through his blood he stood up, towering over her small frame and leaning forward slightly, adopting his own battle stance. “Well what am I supposed to do then?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous as he faced the formidable girl before him. He tried to put all of the confusion, hurt and fear that he felt into his words as he uttered them through tightly clenched teeth.  

“Will you please enlighten me Hermione? Because I have tried everything, _everything,_ I can think of, and you still won’t speak to me. You have NO RIGHT to be this angry at me when you know I have _no_ idea how to fix this!”  

Ron felt a brief spark of satisfaction as Hermione gaped at him for a moment. Her mouth opened and closed aimlessly before she spoke. “I-well-I-” she recovered and crossed her arms defiantly. “I think I am at perfect liberty to be as angry as I want! Besides, it’s your own fault! If you hadn’t left-“ she trailed off abruptly and she seemed to visibly wilt before his eyes. Her shoulders slumped and the fiery rage left her completely as tears began to well up in her eyes, their shimmering weight sparkling blue in the firelight. 

As a drop dipped down across her cheek, Ron felt his throat clench. Without thinking, he reached for Hermione’s slight form, pulling her to him and wrapping himself around her completely. Ron felt relief flood through him as Hermione pushed her arms around him, her hands fisted in the back of his shirt and her sobs muffled in his jumper-clad chest. 

Ron began to shake as her tears soaked through his shirt and her sobs rasped against his ears. She cried with such force that she lost her breath and began to hiccough against him. “Y-you l-left” she cried, her voice barely distinguishable from her sobs. “I c-called for y-you, waited for y-you to come b-back, and-“ she broke off with the force of a particularly strong sob, “you didn’t e-even care!” 

Ron felt his own face grow wet and hot as he pulled her even closer. “I did care, Hermione. I always care.” He needed her to understand, he needed her to feel all the pain and regret that he felt. “I’m so sorry: the second I disapparated I wanted to return. And every minute I spent with Bill I-I wished that I could be back here. P-please Hermione, you have to know how much I wanted to be here.”  

He repeated it over and over as he held her. Slowly, Hermione’s sobs began to lessen until she stood hiccoughing quietly against him in the dim light. Ron gradually became aware of how close she was and how good it felt to finally have her back in his arms. A swift shock of pleasure swept across him at the now almost familiar feel of her breasts pushed against his chest and her hands on the small of his back. He shivered and blushed at the feel of her warm, quick breath on his skin. 

Perhaps she sensed the change in him or perhaps she felt she had revealed too much of herself, but Hermione stepped back from his embrace and wiped her eyes quickly on her sleeves. She looked up at Ron through her wet lashes and he felt his breathing hitch as her beauty washed over him once more. She smiled weakly and gestured towards him. 

“I-I’m sorry about your shirt,” she apologized and Ron could swear he saw a hint of a blush creep across her cheeks. He glanced down at the aforementioned article of clothing and grinned at the large wet patch she had left emblazoned across his heart. He sniffed, surreptitiously wiping his eyes as well. 

“’s’all right,” he replied as he attempted a weak smile in her direction. She turned away to pick up her wand and placed the tip on his chest, siphoning off the moisture she had left there. Ron felt his blood begin to heat again, in an entirely pleasurable way this time, as she ran a hand slowly across his now dry chest. 

“There,” she smiled, “good as new.” He let out a chuckle and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Still the ever practical Hermione Granger, eh?” he replied. “Still patching me up when I’m too clumsy or stubborn to do it myself.”

She smiled fully this time and Ron would have been willing to bet that he could’ve conjured a thousand Patronus charms from the look in her eyes and the brightness of her face. “That’s right, Weasley,” she countered, with a saucy grin. “And don’t you ever forget it.” 

They grinned together for a few minutes before Hermione’s grin faltered. Her brow wrinkled up again, in concentration this time, and she bit her lower lip. Her hand fell from his chest to grab his own hand, her fingers laced tightly through his. 

“Ron, I-I need you to know-“ his heart began to race again at her touch and at her words. “You can tell me anything, _anything_ , and I will listen.” Her fingers tightened almost painfully around his as she squeezed his hand, her eyes large and luminescent with concern. She sighed. “Just promise me that you will talk to me if you feel alone or l-lost. I can’t- I won’t- lose you again.” 

Ron knew that it would take still more time to heal this wound completely but as her words flowed through him they brought a peace and security that he had not felt for a while. Her eyes and her tight grip on his hand burned a new strength and a new resolve into him, filling his soul and heart with renewed purpose, hope and love. 

He nodded, his heart lighter than it had been in far too long a time, and returned her fierce grip on his hand.

“I promise.”


End file.
